Crickets and Kisses
by lulamara
Summary: It's all about Angela and Tony meeting at camp, oh so many years ago... CHAPTER THREE IS NOW UP! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Crickets and Kisses  
**Category: **Who's the Boss?  
**Characters: **Angela, Tony, OC  
**Summary:** It's all about Angela and Tony meeting at camp, oh so many years ago... Part one of ? I thought I'd see if anyone was interested before I wrote any more. Feedback is much appreciated!  
**Disclaimer: **Nope, I don't own Who's the Boss? But I do like to borrow its characters every now and then. : )

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The sun shone bright and fierce down on the playing field at Camp Wildwood. Thirteen year old Angela Robinson wiped her sweaty forehead with the back of her hand and thumped her bow down in the dry grass, hot even though she was dressed in a light blouse and khaki shorts. For the past two hours, she and three other girls had been engaged as a team against four other teams in an archery competition. They all watched as a tall, broad-shouldered woman paced back and forth behind the targets some fifty yards away. This was Ms. Birkenschlager, likely the meanest camp counselor there ever was.

"Okay, girls," she thundered in her deep, throaty voice. "Teams three and four are tied for the lead with six bull's eyes each! Now we go to sudden death! Both teams need to pick their best marksgirl to represent them! Whoever hits closest to the center, wins! If both girls make bull's eyes, we'll go another round until we get a champion! Do you hear me? Okay, let's go! Go, go, go!"

Angela, in team three, felt her already overheated face flush with pride as her teammates unanimously voted her as their representative. They seemed to have forgotten that she had overturned the boat when they went rowing two weeks ago, that she'd clocked Elsie Goodman on a return serve in tennis last week, and that she'd tripped over her own size nine feet in the relay race only yesterday. They only remembered that she had made all six of the bull's eyes that had propelled their team to near victory today. For the first time since she had arrived at camp nearly a month ago, Angela finally felt like she had found her niche.

Notching an arrow on her bowstring and pulling it taut, she closed one eye and took a deep breath, focusing on the distant red circle that was the bull's eye. Regina Loveless, the appointed marksgirl from the other team, had already made her shot - her arrow quivered in the ring just outside the center. It was a pretty good shot, but Angela knew she could do better. Breathing in again, she tightened her grip on the fletching…

"You can do it, Angela!" came a shout from one of the girls in group one. It was Ginny, Angela's roommate and perhaps the only girl at camp who was more of an outcast than Angela herself. She was also perhaps the only girl at camp who had known Angela's name prior to today. They hadn't really talked that much, both of them being pretty shy, but there had always seemed to have been an unspoken understanding between them. A sort of 'rejects of Camp Wildwood unite' sentiment. Angela knew it must have taken a lot for Ginny to speak up like that, and she would have appreciated the support if it had come at any other time.

But at that very moment, Angela was preparing to fire her shot and Ginny's unexpected call caused her to jerk in surprise. The bowstring twanged painfully against Angela's cheek as she released it prematurely and the arrow shot off across the clearing, completely missing the target and disappearing into the forest. The camp, all except for Regina's jubilant group, let out a collective groan.

"ABIGAIL!"

Angela winced, knowing all too well that Ms. Birkenschlager was really referring to her. And she didn't just sound angry. She sounded furious.

The camp counselor stalked over to her, hands on hips. It had the same effect as the sun going behind the clouds. Everything was now very dark and very still.

"Abigail! You get that arrow back right now, young lady! That is property of Camp Wildwood! I don't want to see your face until you have found it, do you hear me?"

Her face flushed now for an entirely different reason, Angela hung her head so as not to let the others see the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. "Yes, ma'am," she whispered.

"Now go! Go, go, go!"

Dropping her bow, Angela dashed off in the direction of the forest, the giggles and taunts of her campmates chasing her. Oh, how quickly they had turned on her.

"Way to go, Alice!"

"Yeah, good going there, Andrea!"

"You might want to take a compass with you, in case you get lost!"

"…and dinner!"

"…and breakfast!"

"…and lunch!"

"Because you'll be out there a long time!"

Once among the tall, leafy trees of the forest, the cruel jokes of the other girls were drowned out. Angela collapsed against the sturdy trunk of an oak tree, trying to catch her breath. Hot tears dripped down her face, stinging as they ran over the welt raised by the bowstring. Just the thought of that awful moment when her arrow went awry caused her to cry harder. Her one chance to prove herself to the camp as one of the 'cool kids', even if it was by winning some stupid archery contest, and she had blown it. And it was her fault. Not Ginny's. Not Ms. Birkenschlager's. Not anyone else's. She had been confident, too confident in her newfound ability, which was never a good thing.

How long she stood there, hugging the oak as if it were her only friend left in the world (and in her estimation, it very well could have been), she didn't know. Gradually other things besides the sound of her own sobbing began to filter into her senses – the continuous ache on the side of her face, the rough bark underneath her hands, the quietly cheerful chirping of birds, and the taste of salt when she licked her parched lips. Straightening up, she ran a hand carefully over her face in an effort to compose herself.

She had no idea what time it was, but surely it was getting late. She knew she needed to find the arrow. The only question was "how?" It could be anywhere.

_Think,_ Angela told herself. _Where did the arrow look like it went after it left your bow?_ She closed her eyes and pictured the playing field. The forest had been to the left of the row of targets, nearly perpendicular to them. When she had released the bowstring, the arrow had shot up and only slightly off to the left. So it must not have gone too deeply into the forest. She was still facing in the same direction she had been on the playing field, so all she needed to do was walk forward and the arrow should be somewhere not too far ahead.

Or so she hoped.

She quickly discovered after setting out that walking in a straight line in a forest was impossible. She kept her eyes trained on the ground, constantly searching for the telltale red of the arrow's fletching against the variegated browns of the forest floor. Thank goodness it was summer; otherwise, it would be dark so early she couldn't see where she was going, much less what she was looking for.

She had been walking for what she guessed to be nearly half an hour, completely absorbed in her search, when suddenly a cracking report shattered the silence of the forest. Startled, she jerked just as she had when Ginny had called out, and then inwardly berated herself for being so jumpy.

Still, her heart couldn't help but race when another snap sounded nearby. She whirled around, trying to determine from where the sounds were coming.

_Stay calm,_ she chanted to herself. _Stay calm, stay calm, stay…aaah!_

A third snap was accompanied by a horrible scream that sounded as if it came from right behind her, and all thoughts of staying calm left Angela's head. Panicked, she started running deeper into the forest. Like some Snow White nightmare come to life, branches clawed at her and tree roots reared up out of the ground to ensnare her. Before she knew what was happening, her feet had connected with something large and soft, tripping her. Her scream was cut off when she hit the ground and the air left her lungs in a violent 'whoosh!'

Panic and pain mingled together as she blindly rolled over and scrambled to unsteady feet. She was trying hard to recover from her fall…she couldn't seem to breathe in properly…when her vision cleared somewhat and she saw what she had stumbled over.

If she could have screamed all over again, she would have.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! **Lisehrin**, character consistency is one of the things I worry about so thank you for saying that. To **readerandreviewer** and **ClassicTVGrl6080**, I hate cliffhangers too! **Jessica**, here is part two. There will be a part three, but I can't promise how soon you'll see it. I'm a very slow and nitpicky writer.

Same disclaimer still applies. Now on to the second chapter. : )

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"Are you alright?" 

Flat on his back on the forest floor, his ribs aching, Tony Micelli stared up at the girl wavering over him. The girl who had just tripped over him. The girl who at the moment, looked anything but alright. It was a rather dumb question he had asked, even for him. Her clothes were smudged with dirt and little twigs were tangled in her hair, which hung like a pale curtain around her even paler face.

What made him jump to his feet, however, was the way her whole body shook as she gasped fitfully. "Hey, hey…just take it easy," he said, surprised at the soothing tone of his voice. Awkwardly, he placed a hand on her back for support. "You'll be alright in a minute. Just calm down."

Her staccato breaths persisted for several more minutes, long enough to cause Tony to worry. What if she was seriously injured? Was it his fault? Should he leave her to go get help? These questions preoccupied him so much that it took him another minute to realize that her breathing had slowed and evened out. He rubbed her back in relief.

"Oh, hey…you're okay now, eh?" She nodded, eyes downcast, and he knelt down to pick up the object he'd dropped. Holding it in front of her, he asked, "So…does this belong to you?"

She gasped at the sight of the red feathered arrow. "Oh, where did you find it?" she exclaimed with a mixture of surprise and relief.

Tony pointed upward and the girl tilted her head back to take in the maple that towered over them. Branches in the first tier were mostly broken, lying scattered on the ground around them.

"It was stuck up there," he explained, "and I had to climb up to get it." At her look of astonishment, he shrugged. "Wasn't so hard. Actually it was a lot of fun. What wasn't so fun was the tumble back down. Branches broke and I hit the ground pretty hard. Got the wind knocked out of me, just like you. Anyways, here you go."

He offered her the arrow again, which she took and then flung her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she exhaled, sending a tingle down his spine. It wasn't so much the expression of gratitude that pleased him as it was the way in which she demonstrated her appreciation. If ever there was proof of the old Micelli magic, this was it: a girl had her arms around him and he hadn't even had to use one of his bad pickup lines.

It was a pretty nice fit, he decided as he put his arms around her. She was slightly taller than he was, but at his age, that was true for most girls. She wasn't a raving beauty, but Tony suspected that, given time, she could become one. It had happened to Donna Benicello back in Brooklyn last summer. Who was to say that the same thing couldn't happen to this girl? He held her closer, enjoying the feel of her cheek pressed against his.

_Her skin is really soft, _he noticed, and then scolded himself. _Cool it, Micelli. After all, it's not like you're gonna marry the girl or nothin'…_

He was brought out of his daydreaming by the girl extricating herself from their embrace. Her face was as red as the sunset bleeding through the trees as she engaged in the type of grooming that only girls concerned themselves with.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pulling the leaves out of her hair. "I don't know what came over me."

Tony's arms dropped to his sides. He shrugged. "It's alright."

"Thank you for finding my arrow. I'd better get back to camp."

"Wait!"

She turned back to face him but Tony was momentarily at a loss for words. Why had he just said that? He wasn't sure, but he had to come up with something to say, so he asked, "Do you need help finding your way back?"

"No, I'll be all right. It's still somewhat light. Thanks again."

"No problem," Tony said. He watched her vanish into the thick foliage, thinking the question he had really wanted to ask wasn't if she needed a forest guide. On impulse, he went chasing after her.

"Hey! Oh, hey…" he called, panting as he caught up with her. "What do you say we meet tomorrow night…at the big rock up the way from here. You know where I'm talkin' about?"

The girl's eyes were wide, but she nodded. "Yes, I know," she answered shyly.

Well, well. So, she knew about Make-out Rock. Tony was surprised, but apparently there was much more to Miss Camp Wildwood than what he had originally thought.

"Would nine o'clock be okay?" she asked, still shy.

"Uh, yeah…nine o'clock would be good."

"Okay."

He started backing away. "Okay, see you then."

"Mm-hmm."

"Yeah…oh!" Not watching where he was going, Tony's foot slipped on a loose rock. He wobbled but regained his balance, gave her a final wave and then dashed off back in the direction of his camp. It was growing darker by the minute now, but still he knew where he was going. He had come through this forest often enough with some other boys to spy on Camp Wildwood in the past few weeks that he probably could have made it back in his sleep.

Tony grinned at the thought his campmates as he ran along. When he got back to camp, he really had a tale to tell.

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"So, I was on my way to Camp Wildwood to…you know…check out the chicks again, when I saw this arrow stuck up in the branches of a tree. One of the Camp Wildwood girls was standin' underneath the tree and she asked me real polite-like…very upper-class, you know…if I could get it down for her. And I said real cool-like, 'Depends. What are you gonna do for me?'" 

Tony was outside his cabin after dinner, telling a group of campmates about what had happened to him that afternoon. He felt a little guilty about embellishing his tale, but excused himself with the reasoning that he had to make his story sound as good as possible for two reasons. The first was that the story wasn't exciting enough the way it actually happened. The second and far more important reason was that it seemed like every boy at camp except Tony had met a girl at Make-out Rock, some more than once. He had to make up for quantity with quality.

"Then what happened?" wondered one of his roommates.

"Well, then I climbed up and got the arrow for her. But I didn't give it to her, not at first. She said she wasn't sure how to thank me so I said, 'How about with a kiss?'" He looked around to make sure everyone was listening to him, and was pleased by what he saw. One boy was practically drooling.

To maximize the suspense, he waited until everyone urged him to go on before he continued. "She acted real shy…you know how girls are…"

Another roommate of his nodded knowledgeably. "My girl, Regina, is always acting like that. Like when we met last week, she told me that she –"

"Oh, hey!" Tony interrupted, straightening up. "Johnny! Who's tellin' this story – you or me?" When Johnny closed his mouth without another word, he nodded. "That's what I thought. Now…uh, where was I?"

"She was shy," someone prompted him.

"Uh, right," Tony faltered. Maybe fictionalizing his meeting in the woods was not such a good idea. Suppose the other, more experienced boys realized he was making it up? Swallowing, he concluded his story by quickly saying, "So I asked her to meet me at Make-out Rock tomorrow night and she agreed."

"So what was her name?" asked a tall boy named Bruce. He was standing slightly behind the crowd surrounding Tony and scowling suspiciously.

"Uh…" Tony blanked out. "I don't know," he realized, and then winced because he had said that out loud.

Bruce crossed his arms. "Yup, exactly what I thought. You didn't meet no girl in the woods!" he sneered.

"Yes, I did!" Tony insisted. He looked around at the now suspicious crowd. The boys were glancing at each other and muttering between themselves.

_This is a disaster_, Tony thought. He had to say something and quick. "I didn't get her name because...well, names aren't important! What's important is tomorrow night. That's real and so is this girl…uh, whatever her name is. You can believe me or not. I don't care. Goodnight!"

Bruce was still scowling as Tony walked past him into his cabin. Closing the door behind him, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.


	3. Chapter 3

I had written about half of this chapter several weeks ago when I hit a block. Yesterday, I came back to it and just started over. Then it was easy! Thank you for your patience. **Lydia Belle**, your comment made me laugh. : ) **ClassicTVGrl6080**, I have two more parts planned after this. Thanks everyone for all the reviews!

Same disclaimer as always. On to the third chapter!

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Despite her hunger, despite her scratches and bruises, despite the water dripping from her from head to toe, Angela was the happiest she had been since arriving at camp. She was almost skipping as she approached the shadowy outline of the cabin she shared with Ginny. The sun had dipped completely below the horizon and the lights at Camp Wildwood were all out; Ms. Birkenschlager was a firm believer in the 'early to bed, early to rise' maxim.

Angela paused to admire the natural beauty of her surroundings before going inside. The moon, a silvery nimbus of light, was waxing almost full. Partially obscuring it were clouds, which hung so low and thick in the sky that it seemed as if they were being held up by the treetops. Thousands of crickets chirruped cheerfully back and forth.

Taking a deep breath of air, which smelled like rain, the girl exhaled shakily. A broad smile was forming around the red feathered arrow she held clenched between her teeth. To think that this day had started out great, then turned into a complete disaster, and then ended as one of the best days of her life! No, _the_ best day of her life.

The cabin door opened and shut with a small creak as Angela slipped through. In the quiet she could hear a squishing sound whenever she took a step, so she bent down and unbuckled her wet sandals. Immediately, a puddle began forming around her feet as water ran uninhibited down her legs and trickled from her hair.

Upon reentering the camping grounds, Angela had stopped by the deserted shower room to clean herself and her clothes. First she had turned the faucet handle over to very hot, so hot that steam clouds formed and, after stripping off her shorts and blouse, washed the dirty articles of clothing using liberal amounts of that gritty soap that smelled so bad it made her nose wrinkle. Wringing all the water she could out of them, she had then let them soak up the steam while she stepped under the spray of water herself. Forgoing the soap, she had simply used water – hot to get clean and cold to soothe her sensitive skin. Her wounded cheek almost felt normal again.

Afterwards, she had dressed again to get from the shower room to her cabin. Now, leaving her sandals by the door, she tiptoed across the log floor to the bunk bed. There were a couple of towels in her suitcase underneath the bottom bunk; she could use one to dry her hair and the other to wrap around her still damp clothes. Her nightgown was in there, too.

She edged the zipper along the seam of her suitcase as slowly as possible. Once it was open all the way, she dove both hands into the layers of clothing inside. She felt the smooth fabric of tops, the slightly rougher material of her shorts, and the thin cloth undergarments… Ah, there was her nightgown. Now where were those towels?

"Angela? Is that you?"

There was a click and suddenly a bright arc of light swung down from the top bunk to shine directly on Angela, who had been kneeling on the floor beside her suitcase. At the sound of the voice, however, she toppled backward in surprise. All she could see was a shimmering green haze, interspersed with black spots every time she blinked.

Angela took the arrow out of her mouth and set it down beside her. "Ginny?" she wondered, shielding her eyes against the bright light as she looked up. "I thought you were asleep."

"I thought I was, too…" replied her cabin mate. There was a pause before her voice took on a concerned tone. "Why are you all wet? And oh! You found the arrow!"

"Yes…I did."

"You don't know how sorry I am…for what happened, I mean."

Angela returned to looking through her suitcase for her towels. "Aha! There they are!" she exclaimed as she tugged them out from behind her clothes. She looked up at her cabin mate, even though she still couldn't see her. "Don't be sorry, Ginny. It's alright."

"I felt so bad when Ms. Birkenschlager made you go out into the woods –"

"No, really! It's okay. It's more than okay." She giggled and then, clasping the towels to her chest, she spoke the magic words. "I met a boy."

"A boy? From the Y camp?"

"Mm-hmm." She began wrapping one towel around her hair. "After I change, I'll tell you all about it!"

Five minutes later, Angela was dry and in her nightgown, sitting cross-legged on her bunk. Ginny had climbed down to join her, bringing a plate of food she'd smuggled away from the dining room. In the soft glow of the flashlight, now lying on the table next to the bunk bed, Angela related her tale of what had happened that afternoon in between bites of a (cold) hot dog and spoonfuls of coleslaw. Ginny, a natural sympathetic ear, added winces of embarrassment and sighs of delight in all the right places, but mostly she just listened.

"So he asked me to meet him at Kissing Rock tomorrow night at nine, and I agreed," Angela finished, stifling a yawn as she set the empty plate down on the table. Not for the first time that night, she reflected on what a day it had been for her - the near win in the archery competition, the search for the arrow in the woods, her meeting with the boy, and now her blossoming friendship with Ginny.

"You're so lucky, Angela, to have a boy who likes you. I'm really jealous."

"Of me?" The tone of her voice showed how hard it was for Angela to imagine anyone being jealous of her.

"Yes." Ginny took a deep breath, which turned into a yawn. "Oh, but if you promise to tell me all about what happens tomorrow night, I suppose I can live vicariously through you."

Angela couldn't help but giggle as she gave the girl a hug. "You're the only other person my age, Ginny, who knows words like 'vicarious.' And yes, I promise."

With that, the two girls said goodnight and Ginny climbed back up to the top bunk, taking her flashlight with her. In a matter of minutes, her breathing had slowed to near silence. Even though Angela was tired herself, it took her awhile longer before she drifted into a slumber of her own.

The next day, which was hot and humid like all the days that had preceded it, seemed especially unbearable for Angela. After lunch, she returned the red feathered arrow to a scowling Ms. Birkenschlager and then joined the other girls waiting in the playing field to begin that afternoon's group activity – volleyball. Another sport in which Angela did not excel. The only thing that made the afternoon more tolerable was that she and Ginny were on the same team, so they could suffer the bruises together.

At the end of the day, the two girls were approached by Regina. "Hey! Amanda!" she called, her voice dropping as she came closer. "You know how those criminals from across the lake are always bothering us? Well, the other girls and I decided we need to make them pay. Tonight. We're meeting at nine o'clock, after that old witch Birkenschlager is in bed, to go over there. Do you want to go with us?"

"She can't go with you," Ginny said quickly, her face bright pink. "She's going to Ki–"

"I wasn't talking to you, Ginger," Regina interrupted, before turning her attention to Angela. "So? What do you say?"

Angela didn't know. She was actually glad Ginny hadn't completed her sentence. Last night, her encounter with the boy in the forest had seemed real. Her heart had pounded every time she thought about their embrace. She was sure she had memorized everything about those few moments in his arms – the warmth of him, the smell of sweat and pine resin, his breath on her neck, and his soft, dark hair. But in the light of day, she wondered if he had been serious in his suggestion that they meet at Kissing Rock. What if she arrived there at nine only to find herself alone?

However, Regina's offer wasn't necessarily any more sincere than the boy's. Neither one of them knew her name. She supposed it was a question of what she wanted more: to be part of Regina's group or to have her first real kiss?

"Well, Allison?" Regina asked impatiently. "Are you coming with us tonight or aren't you?"


End file.
